War
by AmazinglyMe
Summary: The war has indeed started, and tragedy has struck. No character death, in case anyone's concerned. The beginning of a collection of oneshots about the effects of war on HP characters. The first piece has a slight RonxHermione flavoring.
1. Once a Home

_A/N: I thought of this while walking my dog the other night in my mom's coat, which is way to big for me. No, you didn't need to know that. I just thought I'd say so. Yes, I am weird. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. _

* * *

It was leveled. Completely flattened. Destroyed. Rubble. Picture frames and lamps scattered and broken, lying across the ruins of what had been a home. 

Hermione's house was no longer a house. It did not even qualify as the ruins of a house. It just **wasn't**.

She stared at it, her long, bushy hair fluffing out across her shoulders and becoming increasingly curly and frizzy as the rain poured down. The rain was appropriate, she thought numbly. It was always raining in movies and books when things like this happened.

When she'd heard about it her face, she was told later, went absolutely white, her lips pressed together, and she "looked like a very confused toad." Only two people managed to tell her this and live to tell about it, and they told her years after the incident, when she could finally laugh.

In case you're wondering who they were, they were Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter.

She was more thankful then she could ever express that her parents hadn't been in the house at the time. They'd been out grocery shopping, a mere coincidence, and she still shuddered every time she thought about what would have happened if they had decided to put off the shopping until later.

Her parents were with the Order now. Lupin, Tonks, and the Weasleys were all doing their best to explain matters to them, tell them why their house had been leveled. They were shocked but she could see that they were alright. They were being kept busy listening to Tonks as she told them that "somewhere would be provided" though nothing more could be said in the open. They weren't giving themselves time to dwell on their house. Their home.

But Hermione knew everything that Lupin, or Tonks, or Mr., and Mrs. Weasley could possibly tell her, and now she stood, tears coming to her eyes as she gazed at the ruins of the place where she had spent years of her life.

The remains of that house, that ruin down there was all that was left of the place in which she had learned to walk. In which she'd first fallen down and skinned her knee. Once, she'd proclaimed her engagement to her stuffed lion, Boo. What had possessed her to name the thing Boo she'd probably never know.

"Hermione?" Asked a voice from behind her. She didn't have to turn to know it was Ron -- she recognized his voice, and if she hadn't it wouldn't have mattered, because he stepped to be beside her a moment later.

He clearly didn't know what to say, and stood there staring down at what had been her house. Ron and Harry had never even been to her house, she realized.

She didn't say anything, because she wasn't sure he voice would come out as a voice -- maybe more of a croak. Probably a weak croak.

He voiced it, looking for something to say. "I never came to your house." He says.

She wishes he would just keep quiet. He obviously doesn't realize that just having him standing here next to her is comforting to her. He is at a loss for what to say, and he doesn't realize he doesn't need to say anything at all.

She nods mutely, deciding that maybe he'll shut up and just stand there if she doesn't reply.

"I bet it was nice." He says desperately. She turns tear-filled eyes to him, mutely begging him to just stop talking. He does at least change tact.

"Hermione…" He says, uncertainly, but there is real sympathy there, and she is drawn to it, because her mum and dad are busy, and they wouldn't understand how scared she is, because they aren't wizards, and to them "Lord Voldemort" is just a weird name and a scary image. And that is only because their daughter has told them that he's a deadly, evil man. Ron does at least know just how scary he is, what this means.

"It's okay." He promises feebly. "Your parents are okay, and you're okay. It's…It'll be okay."

What an **idiot**!

"No it won't!" She said loudly, spinning to look back at her…well, the thing that had once bene her house. "Look at that Ron! _Look_ at it! It was my house. And you expect me to just think that it's all going to be okay?" She was pretty much screaming, and he looked rather terrified.

"No," he said, correcting himself, "I was just trying to make you feel better. Isn't that the sort of thing you're supposed to say?"

She sighed. "Up to a point Ron. But not when someone's house has just been leveled. That's the sort of thing you say when someone's gotten a low grade on homework or had a hamster die. Honestly Ron…" She trailed off seeing the almost amused look in his eyes.

"I don't suppose you did that on purpose?"

"Did what?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Made me lecture you a bit so that I would get my mind off of all…this." She indicated the smoking ruins with a hand, staring at him suspiciously.

"Don't know what you're talking about." He insisted.

She leant into his shoulder and forgot about it. Either he was far better with mind games then she thought or he was completely and totally oblivious to all things subtle. It didn't matter. She was glad he was here.

* * *

_A/N: Please let me know what you thought! I'm thinking about making this a collection of oneshots about the effects of war on the HP characters, so let me know what you think of it. The piece and the idea. :) _  



	2. Irony

_A/N: A bit depressing perhaps, but still. Sorry for the time between updates. Hope everyone likes this, please review.  
_

* * *

It was funny how the smallest things changed when a war began. 

The littlest noises became suddenly very frightening.

The tiniest, most obscure details were suddenly crucial to peace, perhaps to survival. Everything was scrutinized five times over. Life was very suddenly all about the bits and pieces instead of the big picture.

Paranoia set in all across England, new locks were set on doors, windows were barred. Magical wards went up. To someone who was looking for it, the haze of magic was so thick in the air it distorted what should have been a typical hill, or a suburban house. The air wavered and snapped, thick with magic and tension.

People took extra precautions, listening for the first time in years to the constant advice of Mad-Eye Moody. He stumped around grouchily muttering, "Vigilance, constant vigilance!" and the wizarding populace listened.

They bought charms and antiquities meant to keep them safe from all manner of Dark creatures and wizards, from everyday household pests to Inferi and Deatheaters. They wore garlic vigilantly around their necks and kept their wands with them at all times.

They took classes from Aurors on basic defense, and more advanced protective magic. They reviewed Shield Charms and Stunning Spells that they had never thought they'd have an occasion to use.

They tiptoed around their respective houses, villages, and cities, shooting wary glances at passerby, reporting every other "shifty" looking personage to the Ministry.

For its part the Ministry was just as worried as the general public, and it had almost no new employees any more. Being a member of the Ministry was akin to being a target, and no one wanted to be a target. Aurors were few and far between, due to retiring, or mysterious disappearances. Mad-Eye himself was back to grouching around the Auror office, yelling out orders in his gruff voice and chastising those Aurors who remained for leaving their wands in their back pockets.

But the miserable irony, Ginny thought as she looked out over one more ruined village, was that none of it was doing any good.

They could prepare all they wanted, because in the end the only thing that would really make for change was the outright defeat of Voldemort. Not wards or charms, not locks or bars, nor self defense classes, not even Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley.

None of it was doing any good.


End file.
